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    <title>1. CHAPTER XV</title>
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    <div class="chapter" id="id1036567"><h2>1. CHAPTER XV</h2>


<p id="id1036572"><span id="id120808"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->

Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill
opinion of Mrs. Elton.  Her observation had been pretty correct. 
Such as Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview,
such she appeared whenever they met again,—self-important, presuming,
familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a
little accomplishment, but so little judgment that she thought herself
coming with superior knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve
a country neighbourhood; and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held
such a place in society as Mrs. Elton’s consequence only could surpass.
</p>

<p id="id1036576"><span id="id120813"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently
from his wife.  He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. 
He had the air of congratulating himself on having brought such
a woman to Highbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal;
and the greater part of her new acquaintance, disposed to commend,
or not in the habit of judging, following the lead of Miss Bates’s
good-will, or taking it for granted that the bride must be as clever
and as agreeable as she professed herself, were very well satisfied;
so that Mrs. Elton’s praise passed from one mouth to another as it
ought to do, unimpeded by Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her
first contribution and talked with a good grace of her being “very
pleasant and very elegantly dressed.”
</p>

<p id="id1036580"><span id="id120820"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared
at first.  Her feelings altered towards Emma.—Offended, probably,
by the little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with,
she drew back in her turn and gradually became much more cold
and distant; and though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will
which produced it was necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. 
Her manners, too—and Mr. Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. 
They were sneering and negligent.  Emma hoped it must rapidly work
Harriet’s cure; but the sensations which could prompt such behaviour
sunk them both very much.—It was not to be doubted that poor
Harriet’s attachment had been an offering to conjugal unreserve,
and her own share in the story, under a colouring the least favourable
to her and the most soothing to him, had in all likelihood been
given also.  She was, of course, the object of their joint dislike.—
When they had nothing else to say, it must be always easy to begin
abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which they dared not shew
in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in contemptuous
treatment of Harriet.
</p>

<p id="id1036583"><span id="id120830"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. 
Not merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be
supposed to recommend the other, but from the very first; and she
was not satisfied with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration—
but without solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting
to assist and befriend her.—Before Emma had forfeited her confidence,
and about the third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s
knight-errantry on the subject.—
</p>

<p id="id1036586"><span id="id120835"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.—I quite
rave about Jane Fairfax.—A sweet, interesting creature.  So mild
and ladylike—and with such talents!—I assure you I think she
has very extraordinary talents.  I do not scruple to say that she
plays extremely well.  I know enough of music to speak decidedly
on that point.  Oh! she is absolutely charming!  You will laugh at
my warmth—but, upon my word, I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.—
And her situation is so calculated to affect one!—Miss Woodhouse,
we must exert ourselves and endeavour to do something for her. 
We must bring her forward.  Such talent as hers must not be suffered
to remain unknown.—I dare say you have heard those charming lines of
the poet,
</p>

<p id="id1036578"><span id="id120841"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
        ‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
          ‘And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’
</p>

<p id="id1036596"><span id="id120851"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.“
</p>

<p id="id1036601"><span id="id120860"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer—
“and when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation
and understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell,
I have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.”
</p>

<p id="id1036605"><span id="id120867"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement,
such obscurity, so thrown away.—Whatever advantages she may have
enjoyed with the Campbells are so palpably at an end!  And I think
she feels it.  I am sure she does.  She is very timid and silent. 
One can see that she feels the want of encouragement.  I like her
the better for it.  I must confess it is a recommendation to me. 
I am a great advocate for timidity—and I am sure one does
not often meet with it.—But in those who are at all inferior,
it is extremely prepossessing.  Oh!  I assure you, Jane Fairfax
is a very delightful character, and interests me more than I
can express.”
</p>

<p id="id1036603"><span id="id120874"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You appear to feel a great deal—but I am not aware how you or any
of Miss Fairfax’s acquaintance here, any of those who have known
her longer than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”—
</p>

<p id="id1036612"><span id="id120888"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare
to act.  You and I need not be afraid.  If we set the example,
many will follow it as far as they can; though all have not
our situations.  We have carriages to fetch and convey her home,
and we live in a style which could not make the addition of
Jane Fairfax, at any time, the least inconvenient.—I should be
extremely displeased if Wright were to send us up such a dinner,
as could make me regret having asked more than Jane Fairfax
to partake of it.  I have no idea of that sort of thing.  It is
not likely that I should, considering what I have been used to. 
My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the
other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. 
Maple Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be—
for we do not at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling,
in income.—However, my resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.—
I shall certainly have her very often at my house, shall introduce
her wherever I can, shall have musical parties to draw out her talents,
and shall be constantly on the watch for an eligible situation. 
My acquaintance is so very extensive, that I have little doubt
of hearing of something to suit her shortly.—I shall introduce her,
of course, very particularly to my brother and sister when they come
to us.  I am sure they will like her extremely; and when she gets
a little acquainted with them, her fears will completely wear off,
for there really is nothing in the manners of either but what is
highly conciliating.—I shall have her very often indeed while they
are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a seat for her in
the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.”
</p>

<p id="id1036620"><span id="id120895"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Poor Jane Fairfax!”—thought Emma.—“You have not deserved this. 
You may have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a
punishment beyond what you can have merited!—The kindness and protection
of Mrs. Elton!—‘Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’  Heavens!  Let me
not suppose that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!—
But upon my honour, there seems no limits to the licentiousness
of that woman’s tongue!”
</p>

<p id="id1036623"><span id="id120901"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma had not to listen to such paradings again—to any so exclusively
addressed to herself—so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss
Woodhouse.”  The change on Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared,
and she was left in peace—neither forced to be the very particular
friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very
active patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a
general way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done.
</p>

<p id="id1036626"><span id="id120908"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
She looked on with some amusement.—Miss Bates’s gratitude for
Mrs. Elton’s attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless
simplicity and warmth.  She was quite one of her worthies—
the most amiable, affable, delightful woman—just as accomplished
and condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. 
Emma’s only surprize was that Jane Fairfax should accept
those attentions and tolerate Mrs. Elton as she seemed to do. 
She heard of her walking with the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons,
spending a day with the Eltons!  This was astonishing!—She could not
have believed it possible that the taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax
could endure such society and friendship as the Vicarage had to offer.
</p>

<p id="id1036610"><span id="id120915"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.—“To chuse to remain
here month after month, under privations of every sort!  And now
to chuse the mortification of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury
of her conversation, rather than return to the superior companions
who have always loved her with such real, generous affection.”
</p>

<p id="id1036633"><span id="id120921"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells
were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells
had promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer,
and fresh invitations had arrived for her to join them there. 
According to Miss Bates—it all came from her—Mrs. Dixon had
written most pressingly.  Would Jane but go, means were to be found,
servants sent, friends contrived—no travelling difficulty allowed
to exist; but still she had declined it!
</p>

<p id="id1036636"><span id="id120928"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing
this invitation,” was Emma’s conclusion.  “She must be under some
sort of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. 
There is great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.—
She is not to be with the Dixons.  The decree is issued by somebody. 
But why must she consent to be with the Eltons?—Here is quite a
separate puzzle.”
</p>

<p id="id1036639"><span id="id120934"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject,
before the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston
ventured this apology for Jane.
</p>

<p id="id1036647"><span id="id120944"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage,
my dear Emma—but it is better than being always at home. 
Her aunt is a good creature, but, as a constant companion,
must be very tiresome.  We must consider what Miss Fairfax quits,
before we condemn her taste for what she goes to.”
</p>

<p id="id1036650"><span id="id120950"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax
is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton. 
Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have
chosen her.  But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives
attentions from Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.”
</p>

<p id="id1036654"><span id="id120957"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance;
and she was herself struck by his warmth.  With a faint blush,
she presently replied,
</p>

<p id="id1036630"><span id="id120966"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should have imagined,
would rather disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax.  Mrs. Elton’s
invitations I should have imagined any thing but inviting.”
</p>

<p id="id1036668"><span id="id120980"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have
been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness
in accepting Mrs. Elton’s civilities for her.  Poor Miss Bates may
very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater
appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated,
in spite of the very natural wish of a little change.”
</p>

<p id="id1036673"><span id="id120987"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few
minutes silence, he said,
</p>

<p id="id1036680"><span id="id120995"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Another thing must be taken into consideration too—Mrs. Elton
does not talk to Miss Fairfax as she speaks of her.  We all know
the difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest
spoken amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond
common civility in our personal intercourse with each other—
a something more early implanted.  We cannot give any body the
disagreeable hints that we may have been very full of the hour before. 
We feel things differently.  And besides the operation of this,
as a general principle, you may be sure that Miss Fairfax awes
Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind and manner; and that,
face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the respect which she
has a claim to.  Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell
in Mrs. Elton’s way before—and no degree of vanity can prevent
her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if not
in consciousness.”
</p>

<p id="id1036683"><span id="id121002"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. 
Little Henry was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy
made her irresolute what else to say.
</p>

<p id="id1036670"><span id="id121014"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Yes,“ he replied, ”any body may know how highly I think of her.“
</p>

<p id="id1036697"><span id="id121024"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look,
but soon stopping—it was better, however, to know the worst at once—
she hurried on—“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself
how highly it is.  The extent of your admiration may take you by
surprize some day or other.”
</p>

<p id="id1036692"><span id="id121031"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick
leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together,
or some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered,
</p>

<p id="id1036704"><span id="id121041"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh! are you there?—But you are miserably behindhand.  Mr. Cole
gave me a hint of it six weeks ago.”
</p>

<p id="id1036715"><span id="id121052"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
He stopped.—Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did
not herself know what to think.  In a moment he went on—
</p>

<p id="id1036722"><span id="id121063"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“That will never be, however, I can assure you.  Miss Fairfax,
I dare say, would not have me if I were to ask her—and I am very
sure I shall never ask her.”
</p>

<p id="id1036701"><span id="id121075"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma returned her friend’s pressure with interest; and was pleased
enough to exclaim,
</p>

<p id="id1036736"><span id="id121086"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley.  I will say that for you.”
</p>

<p id="id1036731"><span id="id121095"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful—and in a manner
which shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said,
</p>

<p id="id1036749"><span id="id121105"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?”
</p>

<p id="id1036743"><span id="id121114"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“No indeed I have not.  You have scolded me too much for match-making,
for me to presume to take such a liberty with you.  What I said
just now, meant nothing.  One says those sort of things, of course,
without any idea of a serious meaning.  Oh! no, upon my word I have not
the smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. 
You would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way,
if you were married.”
</p>

<p id="id1036758"><span id="id121121"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again.  The result of his reverie was,
“No, Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will
ever take me by surprize.—I never had a thought of her in that way,
I assure you.”  And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming
young woman—but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect.  She has a fault. 
She has not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.”
</p>

<p id="id1036761"><span id="id121129"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. 
“Well,“ said she, ”and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?“
</p>

<p id="id1036756"><span id="id121138"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Yes, very soon.  He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken;
he asked my pardon and said no more.  Cole does not want to be wiser
or wittier than his neighbours.”
</p>

<p id="id1036777"><span id="id121151"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser
and wittier than all the world!  I wonder how she speaks of the Coles—
what she calls them!  How can she find any appellation for them,
deep enough in familiar vulgarity?  She calls you, Knightley—what can
she do for Mr. Cole?  And so I am not to be surprized that Jane
Fairfax accepts her civilities and consents to be with her. 
Mrs. Weston, your argument weighs most with me.  I can much more
readily enter into the temptation of getting away from Miss Bates,
than I can believe in the triumph of Miss Fairfax’s mind over
Mrs. Elton.  I have no faith in Mrs. Elton’s acknowledging herself
the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her being under any
restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. I cannot
imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor
with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be
continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring
her a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful
exploring parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.”
</p>

<p id="id1036781"><span id="id121157"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley—“I do not
accuse her of want of feeling.  Her sensibilities, I suspect,
are strong—and her temper excellent in its power of forbearance,
patience, self-controul; but it wants openness.  She is reserved,
more reserved, I think, than she used to be—And I love an
open temper.  No—till Cole alluded to my supposed attachment,
it had never entered my head.  I saw Jane Fairfax and conversed with
her, with admiration and pleasure always—but with no thought beyond.”
</p>

<p id="id1036770"><span id="id121164"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them,
“what do you say now to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?”
</p>

<p id="id1036786"><span id="id121176"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied
by the idea of not being in love with her, that I should not wonder
if it were to end in his being so at last.  Do not beat me.”
</p>



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